CAMARADERIE

For three days & four nights they slept under the open sky with constant fear of getting beaten by reckless drunken men. A new dawn had emerged in the country but their lives hardly changed. Less did the policemen. Always a terror to be reckoned with they now acted like mad dogs often unleashing frenzied terror amidst these thin dirty-skinned children, living in the streets. Marjina, Helal, Faruk and Billal lived a parasitic life; sheltered by the age old railway station. The country had seen changes, upheavals, a war called “Liberation”, assassinations and then came an angel called democracy. They were children of democracy aged from seven to twelve. The eldest among them, Marjina, eleven years old as she claimed had already gained a reputation of sleeping with scores of men. She hardly remembered the time when she began her journey towards experience. Initially the men were too painful for her to endure with the kind of perversions they let loose upon her. But now she is used to it.

One day a man with sunglasses ‘on’ came to discuss business with the policemen on duty at the station. They were notoriously called mamus. Marjina along with her gang saw that goodies were being exchanged. On his way back the man detained kutta Selim. He was making a fortune these days selling puris to the reckless nouveau riche swines. To the little abandoned kids they were known as Voddorloker pola. Marjina had an affection for Selim. He often saved her from drunken rapists, more dangerous than the cops. The cops would do it for free but never do it in the unusual way as the rapists did. The man with sunglass threw his glance at Marjina. She was timidly advancing to discern the fate of kutta Selim. The man look molded but more importantly he discovered an aura of mystery in Marjina at first sight. Later he insisted her name to be Marjina who till then was Fuli, the flower girl. He told her Marjina was this houri form the Arabian Nights sending men to the world of unspoken, unimagined pleasure. He assured her to take to the place when cinemas were made. “I will be famous then”, she told with an enthusiastic smile.

Farid, seven was the tiniest of the group. The sense of foreboding he felt was overwhelming when no one was around. He had a troublesome infancy. He proudly explained to his friends that his father was a killer but succumbed to the cops at last. Farid’s dream was to slain each and every policemen he saw in the streets, his mother left him for another man and he saw his two-years old sister die unattended. He hardly knew emotions back then. The only thing he did was cry as he realized the wailing and sudden smiling of this infant has ceased. His mother once told him about death, a long time ago. He asked about his father. She said, he was never to return as he was dead.





Death is a different land altogether. One loses contact with the mundane visiting there. Who knows it might be a world devoid of cruelty and hate. At least, this is what Farid had thought. The most famous among these kids was wily Dipjol. He resembled a famous filmy villain of Dhallywood, the much vaunted local film industry. The group would go on exodus each morning only to return at the railway station to seek shelter at night. The city is full of color during the day. Gleefully they watched rickshaw pullers brawling, small vendors serving endless cups of tea, day laborers exchanging biris, savoring the venomous aroma with cherish. Neatly dressed men & women hurried to the offices, rushing through the pavements sweating profusely; the comrades hardly knew what kept them so relentless. Little did these sights & scenes put them into meditation. They sallied, danced, sang and walked around the city oblivious of their hungry tummies. The dustbins scattered throughout the city provided nasty yet manna-like delicacies to them. Surely they found leftovers from marriage ceremonies of last night.

However there was one thing that made them sad. And that was the pretty faced boys and girls coming out of the schools. Parents were seen waiting to fly them back home. And away they flew to their parents after school. Marjina, Helal, Dipjol and little Farid stood there for minutes if not hours to see the happy rendezvous but with blank eyes watching alien affections pouring forth. Gradually their eyes grew weary watching them. Tediously they melted away as the crowd of pupil and parents also disappeared. The air in front of the school still held a smell of dissatisfaction, signs of their heavy breaths and jealous sighs.


One sunny and bright Friday morning Farid was hanging around with Sulieman in the New Market area when suddenly a busy hawker utters, “Catch, catch the bloody thief”. Sulaiman disappears within minutes. Farid gets severely beaten, falls unconscious, dies in the evening. His mother goes to file a case in the Shahabag police station. Reluctantly the police take the case but soon journalists assemble an interesting story. The boy was murdered because of a feud among fellow pickpockets. The dailies run news on Bashar, a local goon running the entire pick pocketing and other criminal activities in the area. A few days later Suleiman is again seen huddling himself in the crowd. This time, Dipjol and Helal were accompanying him. They have come to revenge Farid’s murder. And they vow to spare none.

But they were haunted by their heavy hearts. Tragedy had not yet left these poor kids. The sun-glassed pauper forcefully took Marjina out of their sights this morning. The lost Farid last Friday and this Friday begins with similar fashion. They heard she was going to be a heroine but yet not so sure. The misfortunes continued. The crowd got hold of Sulieman. But soon amidst confusion he breaks free and disappears within seconds. Suileman as we earlier saw had acquired tremendous dexterity in the stealing business. He was the reason for Farid’s death. Now Helal and Dipjol had been caught in the web. Sergeants were seen devouring such frightening energy and ecstasy shown by the angry mob. The poor boys were then tied to a pole of the shop where Sulieman committed his crime. A beauty with slender waistline curses them after she is detailed of their misdeed. After procuring accessories she vanishes riding an army vehicle. These new gods just descended then upon that unfortunate land holding Helal and his friends to its core. They vowed to drive corruption out of the land as if witch doctors driving away ghosts. The fair lady was declaring albeit unconsciously their dream. “Ours will be a land of the rich. No poor will be tolerated. They will be declared corrupted, immoral, and irreligious and driven away to death.” These were the wishes of the good, religious and righteous. They tolerate no shortcomings, no ugliness.

That evening Sulieman pick Helal and Dipjol from their captor. Now it was Sulieman’s turn to teach his less elusive companions a lesson. He took them to what was promised to be a ‘special place’ after all that merciless beating. They come in front of a large building. Entering inside Sulieman guided them through a strange place as dark and deadening as hell. They saw dark skinned, shabby girls in lipsticks and unkempt clothes wandering here and there. Wobbling through darkened stairs Sulieman knocks open a door they are hurled into a room.

In utter amazement the boys discover a girl sobbing with no clothes on. Her hair was dangling but her face truly resembled one Helal and Dipjol knew so knew. Yes, it wasn’t a mistake. Marjina was lying raucously on the bed. Only then Helal struck Suleiman a death punch. Recovering from double amazement (the blood stained girl and the punch) he brings out a chaku, sharpened enough to kill within seconds. As if in a duel the two boys dangled themselves to the floor. Within seconds blood sputters out of Helal as he lay unconscious but not before Dipjol hurried out of the room with an almost naked Marjina. Deceiving others somehow they reach the streets outside of that morbid building.

Night had then fallen on Dhaka city when Dipjol and Marjina reach the railway station where they lived. During these few minutes Dipjol only remember begging a slightly older rickshaw puller to take them to the place they belonged. Soon Marjina and Dipjol realized what they had gone through all these days. Marjina was crying profusely and complained she had pain in her lower abdomen. Dipjol could only console. The slightest incident of stealing a cucumber has resulted into something unimaginable. So the path to disorder and chaos is very simple. The little universe these kids had built around them has now started to crumble. It was always a castle in the air. Innocence they gladly held on to despite the darkness around them. The rain did set in after midnight. Days in the city have been sultry for the last few days. Now every thing was being washed away, maybe the sins of imprudence as well. Hiding behind ragged clothes, polyethylene and a spare mattress from the old beggar Marjina and Dipjol held each other tight. Splashes of rain did tickle their senses but God only knows how hungrily they slept that night.

Pockets of kindness did reunite them that night. A touch of luck let them flee unharmed, the aged rickshaw puller agrees to give two helpless kids a ride but more importantly the sun glassed man leaves the decision to send Marjina to a renowned brothel pending and landing her to the same hotel room where Sulieman took Helal and Dipjol. All now seemed to have been uncannily related.

The maid servant hailing from a slum nearing the railways had been telling the story since she was drafted in last week. Everyday she would stay for an hour or two for the menial jobs she had been assigned to and all the time she bumped into various stories. Muna’s mother was an avid listener but she was most interested about that story where some street urchins suffered cruelly. And the servant added more color to the story every time she would tell it. Every time she finished her story the lady of the house came up with the same didactic. "Bua", she said addressing their servant, “This is how God intends life to be for us, his creation.” And then drawing attention to her movie obsessed daughter she delivered a sermon, “Only praying to God is the answer Muna. After all, you don’t have a tough life to lead. Go to your room after switching Star Plus for me. I have missed the serials last night”. This went on everyday after the story was told and it disrupted Muna’s obsession with those Hindi movies. Muna left cursing those ill-fated kids that made bua realate their sad tale

She wondered why on earth such kids are to be bothered when she has to deal with more rude complexities of life. Well, she thought of love and assured herself dealing with friends and Rajib is more important than anything else. Yes, the street urchins suffered. So does millions of their comrades each day. This was life. Life goes on and it is not the time to be sentimental. She got hold her mobile as soon as she entered her room. The fated street kids simply disappeared from her life.